


As It Should Be

by AislinMarue



Series: Destiel & Cockles - Correcting The French Mistake [2]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - The French Mistake, Cockles, Destiel - Freeform, Is It Really A Mistake?, M/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 03:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AislinMarue/pseuds/AislinMarue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The damage has been done in the world of Jensen Ackles and Misha Collins. The Winchesters have returned to their own universe, yet Dean can't forget the man he left behind. A man who hadn't deserved death.</p>
<p>Castiel, Angel of Thursday, is true to his word and returns to that world, where magic and the supernatural do not exist, and endeavors to fix the chaos that the angels have wrought. All for Dean. Because of Dean.</p>
<p>There, Castiel meets Jensen Ackles and sees the devastation caused in the face of a grieving husband.</p>
<p>Can he set things right for Jensen and Misha, but also do so for himself and Dean?</p>
<p>Sequel to 'Is It Really A Mistake?'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As It Should Be

**Author's Note:**

> I've kept you guys waiting for this long enough. I hope it was worth the wait.

He came to with a headache to rival all other headaches and no memory of the last few days. At first he suspected Jared had pulled a douchebag move and drugged him bad enough to put him out of commission for a while, but he didn’t think that was the case.

Jensen was sure of it when he went home after waking up in his trailer and found the house empty, but a note from Clif saying he’d let himself in to deliver a small botanical garden’s worth of flowers in his living room from various acquaintances, all expressing their sorrow for his loss. Loss? What loss?

He then spent the next twenty minutes first searching the house for his husband just in case he’d missed him the first time around then trying to contact Misha on his cell phone. Each time he tried, it went straight to voicemail, Misha’s cheerful tones requesting the caller to leave a message. He left a message once, trepidation filling him.

“Baby, hey. It’s Jen. Look, if you could call me as soon as you get this I’d appreciate it. Something really damn weird’s going on and… I’m worried. So please just call me. Soon. I love you.” He disconnected the call with a sigh, then flopped down on the leather sofa in the living room, surrounded by the multitude of flowers.

He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, elbows resting on his knees, but when he lowered his hands, he noticed the stack of newspapers sitting on the coffee table.

‘SUPERNATURAL STAR MURDERED’ the headline read on the local paper that rested on top of the others. And there, right beneath the headline, was a picture of Misha.

Jensen felt his breath leave him in a rush, wide green eyes reading over that single line again and again even though his mind didn’t seem to want to take in the meaning of the words. With hands that shook, he reached out for the paper and lifted it, the light from the lamp on the end table glinting on his gold wedding band.

He had to force himself to read the article even though he was shaking his head slowly in complete denial. He got as far as ‘Misha Collins, the actor known for playing the angel Castiel on television’s hit show Supernatural, was found murdered in a downtown Vancouver alley last night, the victim of a random act of violence.’

The paper fell to the floor from Jensen’s suddenly limp fingers with a rustle of its pages. Tears were streaming down his face, but he had no idea when he’d started crying. Nothing, no past roles, no real life experience, had even begun to prepare him for the pain that had firmly lodged itself in his chest. 

Misha was gone. His husband was dead. And Jensen hadn’t had any idea. His mind could only keep replaying the last memory he had of Misha from a couple of days before when he’d had to leave to report to the set. 

Misha had kissed him so sweetly, those soft, full lips lingering against his own as he’d murmured against them how much he was loved. He had promised Jensen a surprise that night along with a home-cooked meal and Jensen had told him he loved him as well before stealing another kiss then letting Misha leave. His call time had been a little later on that day. At least he’d gotten the chance to hold him, tell him that he loved him one last time.

The thought didn’t bring him any comfort, however. All he could do was cover his face with his hands and sob. On set he was known for the one perfect tear he could do when the scene called for it, but now… these felt like a river of tears with no end in sight, his whole body shaking from the force of them.

All he wanted was for Misha to walk through that door, bring him flowers like he always did, at least once a week, even though Jensen had always teased him that Misha was the girl in their relationship, not him. Jensen would’ve given anything for that. Even his own life just to have his husband alive and well.

That’s why the knock on the door had him jumping, startled. For one brief, heart-wrenching moment, he actually believed that someone or something had heard his prayers and bolted up from the leather sofa quickly to make his way to the front door.

Jensen slowed his pace just before the door, though, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He briefly wiped at his face with his hands before closing the remaining distance and opening the door finally after the person had knocked a second time.

For the second time in less than a half an hour, Jensen felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath him. There was Misha, standing on their doorstep with his Castiel costume on and looking at Jensen almost as if he were puzzled. 

Jensen faltered, needing his white-knuckled grip on the door in order to remain upright, but after a few seconds of stunned silence, he lurched across the doorway onto the porch, his hands fisting in the lapels of that stupid trenchcoat and jerking his husband into his arms, clutching at the other man tightly.

“Oh my god, Mish. Oh my fucking god, you scared the ever living shit out of me, you son of a bitch!” He was crying again and no shits were given in the slightest. Jensen ignored the tears in favor of bringing his lips to Misha’s before his husband could even utter a word in response.

He felt Misha go tense in his arms the second their lips touched, his frame rigid, but Jensen was too far gone, kissing him like he was drowning and Misha was a breath of life-giving air. The lack of response did, however, finally get through to his shock-addled brain and the actor slowly pulled back, peering at his husband in confusion.

Misha looked...pole-axed, for lack of a better term. That was the only way Jensen could think to describe it. His mouth was slightly open, blue eyes wide as he stared at Jensen, frozen on the doorstep.

“Misha? Say something…” The joy was starting to be replaced with apprehension the longer Misha refrained from actually speaking.

The dark-haired man finally seemed to gather his thoughts and words, but the words that he spoke did nothing to alleviate Jensen’s worry.

“I am not your husband,” Misha said, but he said it in Castiel’s voice. The same voice Jensen had to interact with constantly on set and sometimes even at home when Misha felt playful. The way he said it was so matter-of-fact that it left Jensen gaping briefly before he could formulate a response.

“What…? The hell are you talking about? Of course you are…” This wasn’t just Misha roleplaying either. This was too… Jensen couldn’t put his finger on it, but the little hairs at the back of his neck were standing straight up and nothing about this situation felt right at all.

“You’re assuming that I am Misha Collins. I’m afraid your assumption is incorrect. Your husband is dead, but I’ve come to fix that.” Misha looked completely serious as he spoke, those blue eyes peering intently into Jensen’s just as Misha had done so many times as Castiel.

“So. Wait. You’re...Castiel? Is that what you’re saying?” Jensen was already shaking his head no, thinking it all had to be an elaborate yet horribly done prank on the part of his husband somehow.

“Correct. Your husband was killed because he bore a resemblance to me and for that I am truly sorry, but if you’ll come with me, I will explain.” The dark haired man stepped aside on the front porch so Jensen could leave the house and the actor found himself doing so, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“You’re… I don’t… What the fuck, Misha? This isn’t funny…” Jensen followed the other man down the front walk to the street where a dark sedan was parked at the curb. He blinked, pausing on the sidewalk when he saw Sebastian behind the wheel.

“Sebastian? What are you doing here?” Now Jensen found himself even more confused, but Misha was holding open the rear passenger side door for him while Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“The name’s Balthazar, mate. I’m sure Cassie here told you we’re not who you think we are, yes? Now get in the damn car, we’re on a schedule.” That British accent carried annoyance as Balthazar shifted in the driver’s seat to gesture to the back seat for Jensen to get in.

Brow furrowed, Jensen cast a glance at Misha who merely held the door open, waiting for Jensen to get inside. After another moment of meeting that blue eyed gaze, he eased slowly into the car as if he expected it to come alive and bite him.

The door shut then Misha was climbing into the front seat.

The drive didn’t take long and Jensen had no idea where they were going. He barely even registered the scenery as it passed by, too focused on the two men in the front of the car. The whole situation was just too unreal and Jensen fervently wished that all of this was just a huge prank they’d decided to play on him. A shitty prank, yes, but he’d take a prank over the actual reality that they were suggesting was real.

Finally, it registered to Jensen that they were on the production lot for the show, driving toward one of the back storage areas. When Sebastian stopped in front of one of the storage garages and turned off the car, Jensen spoke up.

“What are we doing here?” he asked, shifting in his seat and glancing around.

Sebastian didn’t answer. He merely exited the car and pulled out a key to unlock the storage unit. It was Misha that answered, turning around in his seat to do so.

“Your husband is inside. We had to retrieve his body from the morgue first. You’ll have him back soon, but you have to do as I say. Understand?” Misha asked, then waited for Jensen’s slow nod before exiting the car as well while Sebastian pulled up the door of the unit.

Jensen eased out of the car and approached the storage garage slowly. The hair on the back of his neck was still standing up. And he knew that if this was all true, as crazy as it all sounded, he’d see Misha, his husband, dead, in just a few seconds. It was enough to make him pause on the threshold, not wanting to take those few steps and closing his eyes tightly.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he shifted his head enough to look, green eyes damp when they opened.

Misha’s hand rested on his shoulder. “I promise. You will have Misha returned to you. All of this will be fixed. That’s what Balthazar and I came here to your world to do. I just need you to trust me, D-...Jensen. Please.”

Jensen took a deep, shuddering breath, not failing to notice the slip on his name. Had he almost called him Dean? It would make sense, he supposed, if this was in fact Castiel. The actor nodded once more, unable to deny those dark blue eyes that gazed at him so earnestly. He let out the breath slowly, though it didn’t do much to steady him.

Then he followed Misha...no, Castiel...into the unit where Sebastian or Balthazar had disappeared.

There, on what looked to be a wooden workbench against the back wall was a black body bag. It definitely didn’t look empty. Jensen’s eyes locked onto it and his hands clenched into fists at his side, but he couldn’t bring himself to close the distance and look. Please, God, he thought, don’t let them make me look.

Balthazar appeared to be watching a symbol drawn on the wall closely, as if he were waiting for something. Castiel merely stood at his side, stoic and quiet as ever.

It was when the symbol on the wall began to light up that Jensen finally tore his gaze away from the body bag, watching as Balthazar placed his hand on it. He felt Castiel’s fingers encircle his wrist while the two angels each gripped the bag in their free hand.

Nothing was said even as the light coming from the symbol grew brighter, but then Jensen felt a great lurch in his stomach when it seemed like his body was suddenly being flung across a long distance, though through it all, Castiel’s grip was firm around him.

He landed on his own two feet with a jolt, eyes wide, panting like he’d just run a marathon. A blonde woman stood in front of them dressed in jeans with a blouse and jacket. She crossed her arms as the symbol beside her on the wall slowly stopped glowing.

“Thank you, Rachel,” Castiel said, moving with Balthazar to lift the body bag from the floor and set it onto the bed nearby.

Once Jensen got his bearings he was able to see that they were in a motel room, much like the sort the Winchesters generally stayed in as they travelled. 

The woman, Rachel, nodded. “Call for me if you have need of my help for the return journey.” Then she was gone in a flutter of wings.

Jensen’s eyes were huge as he looked at the spot where she’d been standing, then just as suddenly disappeared, not noticing the way he’d begun to shake.

“Holy shit. It’s...all fucking real?” he whispered, though he heard Balthazar snort behind him.

“Of course it’s real,” he snarked as he shook his head and unzipped the bag on the bed.

Jensen couldn’t brace himself in time. The cover of the bag was pulled back and there was his husband, a long gash across his neck, his skin pale with death.

His legs felt like they gave out from under him, sending him stumbling against the wall and closing his eyes tightly against the sight that was seared into his mind. He vaguely registered the fact that he was sobbing once more just like in his living room when he’d learned that Misha had been killed.

Real. It was all fucking real. The show. The angels. And Misha…

“Oh, God,” he whispered brokenly, green eyes opening once more as he took a few steps up to the bed and eased himself down onto his knees beside it. His hand rose, despite its shaking, to card his fingers through Misha’s soft, dark hair.

Jensen felt a hand on his shoulder and he tore his gaze away from his husband’s body to look up and find Castiel there beside him. His eyes were so blue and so much like Misha’s it made Jensen’s heart ache terribly in his chest with grief.

“Please…” he begged, voice wavering, “Please fix this…”

Castiel nodded then glanced at Balthazar who, thankfully, had been silent for the duration of the exchange. Jensen wasn’t sure he could have handled more sass from the angel given the situation.

Balthazar moved to the other side of the bed and pulled the bottom of the body bag out from under Misha, setting it aside to leave the man’s body atop the comforter.

Once finished, the other angel stepped aside so Castiel could work.

The angel reached out and pressed the tips of his first two fingers onto Misha’s forehead, eyes narrowed slightly in concentration while Jensen found that he couldn’t breathe. All he could do was wait.

The horrible wound across Misha’s throat slowly began to disappear until unblemished skin was all that remained. Then, with a gasp, Misha jolted on the bed, his eyes opening wide as he took in a deep breath of air, panting from the lack of oxygen.

That was all he needed, right there. Misha alive and breathing. Jensen lunged across the bed and pulled his husband into his arms, clinging as he pressed his face into Misha’s neck. “Misha! Oh, God, baby…” he cried into his husband’s skin, completely unwilling to let go.

Jensen felt Misha’s arms come up to wrap around him and the relief was so sweet, so wonderful that it left him lightheaded. He’d thought he would never feel his husband’s embrace ever again.

“Jen?” Misha spoke, voice almost Castiel-like in roughness from not being used for so long. “What’s going on?”

“Shh… Don’t worry about it, baby. Everything’s just fine now.” Jensen lifted his head, a smile on his face despite the dampness on his cheeks. He leaned in to press a firm kiss to his husband’s lips, thrilled to feel the warmth in them. Life. Misha was alive. It was like a mantra in Jensen’s head and it was music to his ears.

He felt Misha tense in his arms and followed his husband’s gaze to where it rested on Castiel. The angel’s head was tilted slightly in that trademark Castiel way that Jensen knew Dean secretly loved, studying the two humans as if they’d just revealed something important to the angel. Something he’d been trying to figure out.

“Long story,” Jensen said, shaking his head, but then Balthazar cleared his throat which broke Castiel out of his reverie.

“Cas. I think it’s time these two went back where they belonged.” The light-haired angel once again approached the bed while Castiel nodded and did the same.

“Agreed,” Cas said to Balthazar then spoke to Jensen and Misha. “I think it’s best for everyone that you have no memory of this. I promise, there won’t be any fallout from this. You’ll both go back to your lives like nothing has happened. Now that Raphael knows the weapons aren’t being hidden in your realm, he won’t have any interest in sending any angels there.”

“I… All right,” Jensen said, his arm lingering around Misha’s shoulders.

Castiel lifted a hand to Jensen’s brow just as Balthazar did the same to Misha.

“Wait!” Jensen said before Castiel could alter his memories. “Just… um. Talk to Dean, okay? He doesn’t understand. But he wants to. Badly. Promise?”

The angel inclined his head, one corner of his mouth upturned in the faint beginnings of a smile. “I promise,” he said as Jensen felt Misha go limp in his arms from Balthazar’s mojo, then the actor felt Castiel’s fingers against his skin and seconds later knew nothing but darkness.

The two angels shared a look over the two unconscious humans then set to work bringing the pair back to where they belonged.

After crossing back into Jensen and Misha’s dimension, Castiel settled both of the humans into their bed. The angel paused, however, before he departed.

He knew Balthazar waited for him on the other side, in his own world, but he took a moment to watch the men as they slept. The resemblance was uncanny, truly, and he could see how much Jensen loved his husband. The human’s grief had been so strong.

“Be happy. Both of you,” he murmured, blue eyes wandering over the pair on the bed. His gaze lingered on Jensen for a moment then Castiel turned to depart so he could make his way back to the rendezvous point. It was time to fix things with his hunter.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was still night by the time Castiel returned to Bobby’s house.

The angel appeared on the lower level in front of Bobby’s desk, blue gaze scanning the interior. It was quiet and the lights were off, the moonlight drifting in to cast a bit of illumination. Not that he needed the light to see anyway.

“You’re back,” came Dean’s voice from behind him.

Castiel turned and the hunter was standing in the shadows near the hallway, though he stepped further into the room when the angel looked at him.

“Yes,” Castiel said quietly, gaze lingering on Dean. He was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an old Led Zeppelin shirt, like he’d attempted to sleep while he waited for the angel to return. Though judging by how tired he looked, Dean hadn’t succeeded.

“Did you fix everything?” What Dean really meant was did he fix Jensen and Misha and Castiel nodded.

“I did. Misha is alive. Neither will remember what happened. They’ll continue as they have been and hopefully have many years together.” It was the least that he could have done for them, he knew. But Dean was nodding in satisfaction.

“Good. That’s good. Thank you.” Dean cleared his throat, glancing down at the dusty floorboards. 

“You’re welcome.” Castiel fell silent after that, not sure of what to say next.

Dean didn’t seem all that certain either, but after several minutes of silence, he sighed and stepped closer to Cas.

“I want you to tell me what’s going on. And why the hell you decided to use us as bait for Raphael the Ninja Turtle. I know you’re at war. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now. But I deserve some answers.” The hunter crossed his arms, gaze steady on the angel’s face.

“I needed a distraction for Raphael so Balthazar could have time to give me the weapons he stole from Heaven. I’m sorry. Being in possession of the weapons turned the tide so to speak. It helped give me leverage in the war. Leverage that I needed badly. Things weren’t going well before today.” Castiel didn’t look away from the hunter as he spoke, though there was no reason for Dean to think he wasn’t being truthful. Dean sighed.

“You’re okay though? The Ninja Turtle hasn’t tried to kick your ass anymore?” Despite the anger at being used as bait, the worry for the angel had festered. The not knowing had been terrible. So now that the hunter had the chance to gather information on the war from Castiel, he was taking it.

“We’ve had altercations with Raphael’s forces. It is a war, after all. But, no, I have not been gravely injured.” The angel’s head tilted slightly as he regarded Dean, but he shifted enough to put his hands into the pockets of his trenchcoat.

“Not gravely injured. But you have been injured?” Dean arched a brow, taking a few steps closer to Castiel to stand directly in front of him and almost in his personal space.

“Yes. But it wasn’t anything serious, Dean. I’m fine.” He tracked Dean’s movements with his eyes, watching when Dean stopped in front of him.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like that you were hurt in the first place, Cas.” Dean’s gaze roamed over him, as if the hunter was searching for injuries even though there were none. At least none that were visible.

“I’m fine,” Castiel said again, trying to reassure Dean, but the man sighed and pulled Castiel into his arms, much to the angel’s shock.

“Damnit, Cas. No more secrets. No more using us as bait for anything. Just be honest with me, man,” Dean murmured, holding Castiel against him.

The angel finally brought his arms up to wrap them around Dean, his eyes closing as he savored the warmth of Dean in his arms, the nearness of his soul. “I’m sorry, Dean…”

“Just stop hiding shit from me. We can’t work together if we can’t be honest with each other. Okay?” Dean leaned back to look at Castiel intently.

“Okay…” He nodded for Dean who looked relieved, giving a soft sigh then pressing his lips to Castiel’s once more. 

“Thanks a lot. Really,” he said before Castiel could offer any further response. “We’ll be okay, Cas. You and me.”

Castiel couldn’t help thinking of everything Dean still didn’t know and worried about what would happen when the whole truth was finally brought to light.

Yet with Dean in his arms, smiling at him, the angel found it difficult to say what needed to be said. He said the only thing that he could.

“Of course, Dean. You and me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed my story! If you did, please consider buying me a ko-fi? My family and I could really use the help.
> 
> ko-fi.com/AislinMarue


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